


Another Blind Date

by katedf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine has set up Camille with many blind dates that didn’t lead to second dates. But this time, she seems to have found an excellent candidate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Although we only ever see one blind date (in ep 2-1), I've had the feeling that Catherine has sent her daughter on a lot more than that one. Camille never seems to be happy about her mother’s attempts at matchmaking, and I’ve wondered how the blind dates went. For Richard’s sake, I’ve believed that they were all boring. But what if Camille actually enjoyed one of them?

Catherine finished her croissant and smiled brightly at her daughter, “He’s a doctor, new to the island. He works at the hospital part of the time and in private practice part of the time.”

“Maman…”

“He’s very nice, good-looking, too. Just about your age, I think. American.”

Camille sighed, “How do you find them?”

“He was out exploring the island, and he stopped here for lunch. It was a quiet day, so I chatted with him. When I heard he was new, I thought perhaps you could show him some of the island. I could make a picnic for you, and you can take him to a nice quiet beach.”

“Maman! Could you be any more obvious?” She set her coffee mug down so hard she spilled on the kitchen table.

“I didn’t say anything. I just told him a little about you and gave him your number. I didn’t set up a date for you. But if I hear he called and you said no, I will be very annoyed with you.”

“Oh, Maman, if he’s so great, why don’t you go out with him?”

“Now, Camille, he’s too young for me. Anyway, you’re the one who needs a husband. I want—”

“Don’t say it! I’m late for work. Thanks for breakfast, see you later.”

-o-o-o-o-

It was a quiet morning at the police station. Fidel had gone out to walk through the market. It was always good to keep a police presence, and he preferred keeping busy to waiting for forensics reports that wouldn’t arrive until the next day. And, although he’d hate to admit it, he enjoyed showing off his sergeant’s stripes. Dwayne, who generally preferred sitting to walking, was doing background checks on suspects. Camille was online, too, searching for information on the victim’s company.

Richard was doing his Richard thing, frowning at the white board and flipping through his notes. He hated the wait for forensics information. After the analysis of the scene and initial interviews, there was a lull that to him felt like time being wasted. He looked up when Camille’s mobile rang.

She answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Sergeant Bordey.”

_“Hi, Camille? This is Jeff Simmons. Your mom gave me your number.”_

“Yes, Dr. Simmons, how are you?”

_“It’s Jeff, please. I’m fine. I don’t know if your mom told you, but I’m new to Saint Marie, and I don’t know many people outside the hospital.”_

“Yes, she said you’d stopped in for lunch. I’m sorry if she was pushy about giving you my number. She does that sometimes.”

_“No problem, moms can be like that. Actually, I was very pleased. I mean, it’s cool to pass the mom test before you even meet the daughter.”_

Camille laughed, “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

_“I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner some evening soon? I didn’t mean to assume you’d be available on short notice. Geez, this is awkward! But I’ve got two weeks of night on-call duty coming up, so I thought if I didn’t call you now, I’d have to wait until that was over. Any chance you’re free later this week?”_

Camille glanced at Richard. He was trying very hard to look as if he wasn’t listening to her half of the conversation. She’d noticed the little flinch when she’d mentioned her mother giving Jeff her number. What the hell, one date wouldn’t break Jeff’s heart. And Richard could do with a bit of prodding.

“Actually, yes. How’s Thursday?”

_“Thursday great. Um, I don’t know the hot spots around the island, so please choose a restaurant.”_

“Do you like seafood?” Another glance told her that Richard knew she was setting up a date.

_“Live for it!”_

“Wonderful! I know a great seafood place.”

_“Pick you up at seven?”_

“Fine, we can meet at La Kaz. See you then, Jeff!”

Camille set down her phone and looked at Richard. Now he was scowling at the white board. Camille walked over to the board. 

“So,” she said, “Who do you think did it?”

“It’s too soon to know, and guessing gets us nowhere.”

“I think—”

“No hunches, no I’ve got a feeling.”

“Actually, I was going to say that I think the marketing guy has the loosest alibi, and we should check that one first. Especially the time to drive from the restaurant where he said the meeting took place and the office. I think he could have made it back to the office in time. And then he just drove around until he could conveniently return after the secretary found the body.”

Camille drove. Richard fidgeted with the clasps on his briefcase.

“Could you please stop that?” she said.

“Stop what?”

“You’re fidgeting. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. Why does something have to be bothering me?”

“Because you fidget when something is bothering you.”

“Well, nothing is.”

She rolled her eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes. I can see you do that, you know.”

The waiter and manager both remembered the marketing manager, and their estimates of the time he was at the restaurant matched. The manager confirmed that they had discussed changing the restaurant’s advertising plan. The alibi seemed to check out.

As they were leaving, Camille returned to the manager and asked about making a reservation. Richard went out to the car to wait for her. 

Camille got in the car and buckled her seatbelt. “Let’s try the shortcut.”

“What shortcut?”

“To the victim’s office. Did you notice that the marketing guy’s car was dusty? It’s a back road, and it can be dusty. Check your watch.”

Camille turned onto what was definitely a back road. They bounced along, and finally Richard asked the question that had been on his mind since her phone had rung back at the office.

“Another blind date?”

“Yes. A doctor, new to the island.”

“English?”

“No.” 

Richard looked surprised. Jeff Simmons didn’t sound French. Although Caribbean names could be anything, somehow it didn’t sound Caribbean, either.

Camille let him stew for a minute. Then she said, “American.”

“Oh.”

“Pediatrician.”

“Ah. Loves children, I see why your mother picked him out for you.”

“It isn’t just about grandchildren. Maman wants me to be happy.”

“Oof!” Richard was spared having to answer when the Rover hit a particularly bad pothole.

“Sorry!” Camille said. She pulled back onto a main road and asked, “How are we for time?”

“Tight, but he could have done it. It’s a hell of a road for a sedan, though. We should get Fidel or Dwayne to have a look under it to see if there are recent scuffs on the underside of the car.


	2. Thursday

By noon on Thursday, they had enough evidence to arrest the marketing manager for the murder of his boss. By midafternoon, all the paperwork had been completed. Richard looked at Camille.

“Go.”

“What?”

“You have a date to get ready for. If you want to leave early, that’s fine. In fact, you can all leave early.”

He didn’t have to tell Dwayne twice. Fidel followed shortly after that. Richard sat at his computer.

“Aren’t you going to leave early, too?” asked Camille.

“Yes, just proofing the report one more time. You know me, crossing every _i_ , dotting every _t._ ”

“You do know what you just said, right?”

“Hmm? Sorry, reading. What did I say?”

“Never mind. I guess I’ll go now.”

“Yes, well, enjoy your evening. Don’t let him take that back road out to the restaurant.”

“Do you really think he’s going to take me out on some back road and jump me?”

“No, I didn’t say that, it’s just, you know, it’s always wise to be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry, Richard, nothing will _happen to me_ on a first date. See you tomorrow.”

As soon as she left, Richard opened Google. He quickly found the hospital’s press release. Yes, Dr. Jeffrey Simmons was everything Camille had said. A doctor from a big-name medical school. Obviously good with kids, based on the photo of him with three grinning patients. He’d worked with Doctors Without Borders for two years. A saint, if ever there was one. Every mother’s dream for her daughter.

-o-o-o-o-

Jeff picked up Camille right on time. She’d made a point of being ready. Her mother had warned her not to do anything stupid to jinx the date the way she had others. 

Camille was surprised to find that she liked Jeff. He was warm, open, funny. He talked about how beautiful Saint Marie was, and how much he looked forward to having time to swim in the ocean. He loved warm weather, but had to admit that, with his blond hair and fair skin, he expected to use a lot of sunscreen.

Camille laughed and said, “Richard uses factor 50 religiously.”

“Richard?”

“My boss, Inspector Poole. He’s English. VERY English.”

“Ah. What’s work like in a Caribbean police station?”

Camille told Jeff about Dwayne and Fidel. She described how the team went about solving a murder case—clues, forensics, the white board, Richard obsessing about details.

“You know,” Jeff said, “It’s a lot like diagnosing a disease. You have clues, we have symptoms. You have forensics, we do lab tests. And just as your Richard finds details that break a case, we look for significant details that tell us what’s wrong with a patient.”

“Um, he isn’t _my_ Richard.”

“That’s good to know. You talk about him a lot, though.”

“Oh, that’s just because we work together all the time. So if I talk about a case, his name is likely to come up. Don’t you have a similar team approach at the hospital?”

So Jeff told her his impressions of the Saint Marie hospital. From there, they wandered into stories of their childhoods. Jeff was impressed with how well Catherine had managed as a single parent. He’d had the ideal family life, with both parents, a kid sister, and a dog. He told her about wanting a horse, but settling for riding lessons.

“Did you want to be a cowboy?”

“Yes, of course,” Jeff laughed. “I did work on a cattle ranch one summer. It was hard work, but a great experience. I love animals. I thought about becoming a vet, but decided I’d be a doctor when I found out I’m allergic to cats. 

“Richard doesn’t like cats. He isn’t crazy about dogs, either. But he has a lizard.”

“Why a lizard?”

“It lives in his house. It just showed up one day and stayed. Sometimes I’m not sure who is whose pet. I think maybe Harry believes Richard is his pet human.”

Jeff smiled. _And you’re talking about Richard again._ “Harry?”

“It’s the lizard’s name. I have no idea why.”

“Did you have pets growing up, Camille?”

“No. Living over a restaurant and bar, a pet can be a health issue. Things are casual here, but we do have health inspectors, so Maman said no pets. What was your dog like?”

“Sammy was a Jack Russell terrier. Did you ever see _Frasier?_ The dog in that show was a Jack Russell. Great dogs, smart as anything. But, jeez louise, are they stubborn! And high energy, too.”

They talked about travel. Camille talked about living in Paris. Jeff told Camille about his time with Doctors Without Borders on Haiti. That was when he discovered how much he liked the Caribbean climate. Jeff asked Camille about natural disasters on Saint Marie.

“We’re lucky. We haven’t had an earthquake. And most hurricanes haven’t hit us too hard. Irma last year was pretty bad, but it didn’t pass right over us, so it could have been worse. We lost power, but it was restored fairly quickly in most areas. Churches and schools set up shelters for people whose houses were damaged. My house wasn’t damaged, and La Kaz was okay. Ironically, I spent the night marooned in a university meteorology lab.”

“What were you doing there? Getting a forecast?”

“No. Believe it or not, a grad student at that lab was murdered the afternoon before the storm hit. We shouldn’t have gone back out there, but Richard insisted we could get there and back in time. Of course, nobody was there when we arrived. And then the storm was too fierce for us to go back to Honoré, so we stayed in the lab.”

“So, you and Richard…?”

“What? No!” Camille laughed. “Nothing like that. I’m afraid he’d much rather kill me than kiss me.”

“I find it hard to believe that any man would feel that way about you.”

“That’s because I didn’t spent tonight trying to annoy you. Trust me, I can be _very_ good at it.” She shrugged, “It’s a fun way to make slow days entertaining.”

Jeff smiled. He had learned almost as much about Richard as he had about Camille. He’d also learned something very important about Camille. He would have no chance with her as long as she was in love with her boss.

On the drive back to Camille’s house, they passed Richard’s beach bungalow. The house wasn’t clearly visible from the road, but Camille could see that lights were on. She was surprised that Richard was still up. He got up so early, she had assumed he went to bed early, too.

Jeff stopped his car in front of Camille’s house. She leaned over, kissed his cheek, thanked him for a lovely evening, and said goodnight. He waited until she had her front door open. She waved, and he drove away. 

Camille kicked off her shoes and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The date had gone well. Jeff was far and away the best of the dates her mother had found for her. She could see herself going out with him again. But was that what she wanted? She had told Jeff that she was tired from a long day at work. But now she felt too awake to go to bed. She needed to talk about this, but had nobody to talk to. Not even a lizard. Maybe she should get a pet.

There _was_ someone to talk to. And maybe it was time she did. She picked up her phone, but then decided it was easier to drive there.

-o-o-o-o-

When Camille got to Richard’s house, the lights were still on. She walked up the veranda steps, and was about to call out “Hello” when she saw him.

Richard was asleep in a chair, holding a book. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves. On the table next to the chair sat a glass with a small amount of amber liquid in it. A bottle of whiskey sat on his desk. That struck Camille as odd. Richard rarely drank anything stronger than beer. She tiptoed closer to get a look at the book. It was a French grammar book. And on the desk she spied a package of French language CDs. Richard was learning French?

He mumbled something and she held her breath. Suddenly, she felt foolish being in his house so late at night.

“Camille?” he mumbled. “Can’t… mustn’t… _je desire_ … I wish…” He sighed and was silent again.

Camille tiptoed out to the veranda. What did all this mean? French lessons? He’d said her name. Was he dreaming about her? Can’t? Mustn’t? Why couldn’t they? Was he worried about the rules? She had to admit she hadn’t even given that a thought. And she should. She needed to think about a lot of things, because there was no sense in wanting a man who would rather follow the rules than love her.


	3. Friday

The next morning, Camille arrived at the station before Richard. Dwayne was telling Fidel about a party he was going to on Saturday while they started their computers. Dwayne looked up when she walked in. 

“Sooo, Camille,” he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “How was the big date?”

“It wasn’t a BIG date. Just a date. Very pleasant. He’s nice. Quite impressive, actually. He went to Haiti after the earthquake. Médecins sans Frontières, you know?”

“I believe it’s called Doctors Without Borders,” said Richard, as he entered the station.

“No. It’s Médecins sans Frontières. It was started in France, so you should respect its proper name.”

“Ah, and does Doctor Jeff call it Médecins sans Frontières?”

“Um, I’m trying to remember,” Camille hated it when Richard cornered her on details. She found a bit of wiggle room, “Oh, but he signed up through the American branch, so it’s only natural that he’d call it Doctors Without Borders.”

“And I’m from the UK. Care to guess what our branch calls itself to itself?”

“What is this calls itself to itself?”

“Isn’t that how you say your name? _Je m’appelle?_ I call myself to myself?”

“Since when are you an expert on French?” Now she had caught Richard in a detail, and she relished her little triumph.

“Um, I suppose I, you know, picked it up somewhere.”

Camille’s phone rang, ending the skirmish. Dwayne and Fidel exchanged amused looks and went back to work. Camille answered her phone.

“Bonjour, Maman…Yes, very nice… yes, he is… I don’t know…” Camille could tell from Richard’s intent gaze at his computer screen—which he had not yet turned on—that he was listening, so she shifted to French. “Ah, homard… mais oui, avec les yeux…mmm, délicieux! … Non! Maman! C’etait le premier… hmm, peut-être…”

Camille hung up and Richard tried to piece together some of the conversation. She’d had lobster. He knew that the lobster belonged to the genus Homarus, so homard would be lobster. And it was delicious. She said “no” to something Catherine had asked, presumably because it was the _premier_ , or first. He very much hoped that the rather shocked “no” was in response to Catherine’s question about how the evening ended. Although, the _peut-être_ that followed wasn’t reassuring. Perhaps what? Perhaps on the next date? He rolled his shoulders and winced.

“Richard?” Camille’s voice interrupted his linguistic efforts. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm? No. Just my shoulder. A bit stiff. I must have slept in an odd position. Perhaps I need a new pillow.”

_Perhaps you need to stop falling asleep reading._

The Commissioner arrived just then, and they all stood. 

“Good morning team!”

“Good morning, sir.”

“What can we do for you?” asked Richard, who didn’t particularly want to do anything for anyone this morning. 

“First, let me congratulate you on the speedy solution of the murder. The victim’s wife is going to keep the company going, so that’s a good thing. I always hate to see jobs lost on Saint Marie.”

“That is good, sir. Thank you for telling us.” 

“Is something wrong, Inspector?”

“No, nothing.”

“It’s just that you look uncomfortable, more than just due to a visit from your boss.”

“Oh, bit of a stiff shoulder. Nothing serious.”

“You should go out to the spa and have a massage. Wonderful staff they have there. The conversion from plastic surgery to healthy living spa has gone well. Another business that survived a murder. Your discretion is commendable. And speaking of discretion, I was hoping you could spare Dwayne and Fidel to patrol the harbor more often. We’re getting a lot of tourists in their own boats with the festival coming up next week. I’d like to have a plain-clothes patrol so as to less obvious. I can lend a few men from Government House, but your local officers will be best.”

“Yes, certainly, sir. We can set up a schedule.”

“Excellent! I know I can count on you. Good day, team.”

After the Commissioner left, Richard pulled up a calendar of local events and started working out a patrol schedule. Camille could see that he was tense.

She said, “I’m going out. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, she returned, carrying a tote bag. She walked over to Richard and stood behind him. She pushed on his back and said, “Lean forward, with your arms on the desk.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Put your head down.” She nudged him, and pushed his head down.

“What are you doing?” He raised his head, and she pushed down again.

“Relax. Where does it hurt?” She held his head down with one hand and began to explore his shoulder with her thumb.

“Ow! There.”

“Okay, this should help, but you have to—no. Come with me.” Camille dragged Richard to a cell and pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

“Ugh, you’re joking, right?”

“No. It’s the only flat surface other than the floor. Come on, lie down on your stomach.”

Richard looked terrified.

“For pity’s sake,” she hissed, “I’m not going to molest you! I’ve got a heating pad. It will relax your muscles. I don’t suppose you thought to take anything for the pain.”

“No.”

Camille sighed in exasperation as she set the gel pack on his shoulder, “You don’t take proper care of yourself. Is that the right spot?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“Microwavable gel heating pad. I nuked it at home, but it seems to be holding the heat.”

“A hot version of Dwayne’s ice packs? That’s clever.”

“I find it useful for—” no, don’t say cramps, men freak over that sort of thing. “For minor muscle aches. Half hour, don’t move.”

Twenty minutes later, when Camille checked on Richard, she saw that he was sound asleep. A half hour after that, he stood by Camille’s desk. 

“Thanks,” he handed her the heating pad. “It helped. My shoulder is much better. What are you doing?”

Camille had the contents of the station first-aid kit scattered across her desk. “I wanted to find some naproxen sodium for you, and the pills in here are out of date. Some of the other products are, too, so I’m making a shopping list. I’ll check the kits for the Rover and the bike before I go shopping.”

“You’ve suddenly taken an interest in medicine.”

“I don’t know why I bother when I’ve got such a cranky patient.”

“Sorry. It is important to stay up to date on this, so thank you for doing it.”

“Unfortunately, the naproxen from the kit is out of date, but I have some.” She opened her desk drawer and took out a small blue box of Feminax.

“I’m not taking THAT!” Richard said, grateful that Fidel and Dwayne had gone on lunch break.

“For pity’s sake, Richard. It’s just naproxen sodium. It’s the same as what’s in this,” she held up the outdated generic package, “But it’s still within its useful date range.”

“But it’s for… um, and… I mean, what else is in it?”

“It doesn’t have hormones in it, if that’s what’s worrying you. Naproxen sodium is the best thing this side of narcotics for menstrual cramps. But it’s also recommended for other uses, including muscle pain. Read the labels. You’ll see that the contents are the same. Only the marketing is different.”

Richard read the two packages, weighing outdated “normal” pills against fresh pills for “women’s problems.” He sighed and dropped the “normal” pack into the kit and opened the blue package.

By the time Dwayne and Fidel returned, Camille had packaged the outdated materials for disposal and had her shopping list ready. When she got back with her purchases, the men were on the station’s front porch, looking at the harbor.

“Come on, Chief,” said Dwayne. “Your telescope would be just the thing for surveillance.”

“We have binoculars,” said Richard.

“But we’d see so much more detail,” replied Dwayne in a wink-wink-nudge-nudge tone of voice.

“Planning to ogle?” asked Camille as she got to the top of the steps.

“Would we do that?” asked Dwayne.

“Any chance you get!” she laughed. “Richard, I found everything I needed to restock the kits. And you should have your own supply of the pills for muscle aches.”

Camille reached into the bag, amused at the look of panic on Richard’s face. She took extra time to rummage through the packages, enjoying watching him squirm.

“Here it is!” She grinned as she handed him a package of generic naproxen sodium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The discussion of “I call myself to myself” was inspired by an Armstrong and Miller sketch in which they speak English using French and German syntax.


	4. Friday Night

Richard tossed the French book and CDs into a drawer. If he had to listen to that droning voice conjugate one more verb, he’d throw himself into the ocean. He tried to convince himself his grumpy mood was due to his sore shoulder and the hot, humid air. Camille had been right; the heating pad and naproxen had helped. But her sudden transformation into Florence Nightingale was worrying.

He had a bad feeling about this Doctor Jeff. Camille said very little about him, which was different. She usually liked to entertain the team with tales of her blind dates. Not for the first time, Richard considered trying to talk Catherine out of her mania for fixing up Camille with blind dates. But the dates didn’t interfere with Camille’s work, so he had no reason to say anything. 

“How’s your shoulder?”

Richard looked up in surprise. He’d been lost in his thoughts and hadn’t heard Camille approach.

“Better, thanks.”

“I brought the heating pad. I should have told you to take it home, but I forgot.”

“You aren’t out with Jeff tonight?”

“No,” said Camille. “Unless a first date is phenomenal, you wait a few days before going out again.”

“Ah. I didn’t know there were rules.”

“Not rules, exactly. Just what usually happens. There are three cases. One, it’s great, and you call the next day. Maybe he even sends flowers. Two, it’s okay, and you talk again a few days later and go out again in maybe a week. Three, it’s horrendous, and you both know it, and nobody calls the other.”

“What if one thinks it’s good and the other thinks it’s horrendous?”

“That can be difficult. But most people can sense when someone likes them.” Camille sat facing Richard and looked at him. He did not look back at her. 

“So, which case is it with Jeff?” he asked.

“I like him. I don’t think he’s The One,” she said with air quotes. “But maybe that whole idea is silly. It should be enough to find someone who’s good and kind and who you can like, and never mind the fairy tale of finding your One True Love.”

“You’ve been on only one date. You don’t have to sort out your whole life right this minute.

“I know. But the others weren’t at all interesting. Nice enough men, I suppose. But no… you know, no ‘click,’ no spark.”

“And you got a ‘click’ with Jeff?”

“No. But I wasn’t bored. And he is very nice.”

“And a doctor. And he likes kids. He does sound perfect.”

“Yes, he does. But…”

“But? I still don’t understand why you’re here, talking to me about this Jeff. I’m no use at advice to the lovelorn. Have you talked to your mother?”

“No. I don’t want her to get her hopes up.”

“Don’t let her pressure you. You aren’t past your sell-by quite yet.”

“Gee, thanks. But I think Maman is worried that I’m awfully close to it, so I can’t talk to her about this.”

“I’m sorry I’m not much help. You must like him to be this worried.”

“I do like him. But what if The One is out there, and I’m with Jeff when I’m meant to be with HIM? And, okay, so Jeff and I go on a few dates, nothing much will happen in that time. But what if Jeff wants more from a relationship than I do? He’s a nice guy; I want to be fair to him.”

“I guess you decide when it happens. Camille, do you honestly expect to meet a man and have the earth tremble and angels sing and whatever other clichés there are?”

She shrugged. Without thinking about what he was saying, Richard continued.

“Falling in love doesn’t have to be like jumping off a cliff. Sometimes it can be a gradual thing, like going down a hill. You don’t even know you’re sliding. And once you’re there, you can’t remember when it started or when you didn’t love the other person. And the earth didn’t’ shake and the angels didn’t sing. But you’re no less in love because it didn’t hit you like a bolt of lightning.”

Camille looked at Richard. He was staring off into the distance. The look on his face was wistful, like the way he’d looked in his sleep last night. That description of sliding into love instead of falling. That was how she’d fallen for him. 

“That happened to you, didn’t it? Tell me about it.”

“Not much to tell. I fell in love with a woman I couldn’t have. I wish there had been a sign when it started. I’d have tried to stop myself. But I was beyond help by the time I knew. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Lie awake vacillating between deciding to tell her and deciding never to tell her. I suppose that sounds cowardly. I focus on work. It’s easier when we have a case. That occupies my mind. Without a case, I distract myself with reading. It helps me get to sleep.”

Camille noticed that he had changed from past to present tense. Was _she_ the one keeping him awake at night? “Sleeping in a chair isn’t good for your shoulder.”

“No, it—what?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I drove over here to talk to you then, but you were asleep.”

“You were here? In my house?”

“Yes, you were asleep in that chair. I thought about waking you, but then I felt foolish for being here. Ohhh mon Dieu, I can’t believe I told you this. I sound like a stalker!” Camille put her hands over her face. 

“I’m glad you told me. I thought I was losing my mind. I dreamt I could smell your perfume. At least now I know that it was a subconscious reaction to the actual scent. 

“What did you dream?”

“I don’t remember. There are so many, one dream blends into another.” A look of panic came over Richard’s face. “Oh no, I can’t believe I told _you_ THAT!”

“Last night, you mumbled _can’t_ and _I wish._ Am I the woman you think you can’t have?”

Richard looked down, afraid to meet her gaze.

“Richard, you said my name and _I want_ and _I wish._ So am I?”

He shook his head, “Camille…”

“It’s all right, Richard. You don’t have to say anything now. But at some point, I’ll to have to decide if I will wait for The One or settle for someone else. So if you don’t want me, it would be a kindness to tell me. Love me or let me go.” She smiled sadly and added, “I hope your shoulder feels better. Don’t fall asleep in your chair again.”

Camille walked out onto the veranda. She paused to rummage in her purse for a tissue. Her keys clattered to the floor. Richard picked them up.

“Oh," _sniff_ "I didn’t hear you walk—”

“You are.”

_sniff_ "I’m…?”

“The woman I can’t have.”

“But," _sniff_ "You can!”

“There are rules…”

A storm was brewing, and a distant flash of lightning illuminated Richard’s face. The look on his face told Camille everything she wanted to know.

“Don’t you know, Richard? You’re The One. I slid into love, just the way you said.” Another flash of lightning showed Camille that he was concentrating on something. “Stop worrying about the rules. You said it earlier; we don’t have to figure out our whole lives right now. Let’s just deal with tonight.”

The lightning was getting closer. Richard thought the flash behind Camille made her hair look like a halo. She reached out and slipped her arms around his neck, but he put his hands on her shoulders and held her back. 

“Why not?”

“Shh,” he replied as lightning flashed brightly. _two, three…_

Richard pulled her close and kissed her, and the crack of thunder shook the house. Camille gasped, and he took advantage of that to deepen the kiss.

They broke apart, breathing heavily.

“Ohhh, my,” said Camille, “That was—wait a minute! While I was pouring my heart out, you were timing the thunder?”

"Well, yes, but I _was_ listening to you. I heard everything you said, Camille. I never thought I’d hear you say that I’m The One. I suppose, deep down, I want the fairy tale, too. The storm was providing the opportunity, and I wanted to make our first kiss earthshaking.”

“Oh, Richard,” Camille sighed. “I always knew it would be.”


End file.
